The Ever-Ending Sacrifice
by Lyta Halifax
Summary: Life is Strange. And then it ends. Or so Max thought. She was so certain she had made the right choice, dying in Chloe's place, so that Arcadia Bay would be saved from destruction. What if the Universe had other ideas? (Pseudo-sequel/Alternate ending to The Never-Ending Sacrifice)


_**A/N:** Halt! Before you go any further, you're probably going to want to read The Never-Ending Sacrifice, for much of this to make sense._

 _Okay, read it? Now you have a decision to make: keep the angsty, bittersweet ending as is, in your mind? Or read ahead for a happier, more uplifting take?_

 _The choice is yours. You just can't take it back though, unlike a certain game..._

 _(Also, spoilers, sweetie)_

* * *

Life is strange. Then it ends.

Unless it refuses to do so. Then it just becomes annoying.

Seriously, what the hell is going on?!

I'm stuck here, in The Grey. At least that's what I've taken to calling it; a sort of self-preservation instinct that kicks in if I'm just about to be badly hurt or die. In the past it was a secret weapon, my get-out-of-celestial-jail-free card. The net that the bottom of this twisted trapeze act I've been performing since my time manipulation powers kicked in.

It stubbornly insists on not letting me go.

 _This is what I want. This is okay. This is how it's supposed to be._

The Grey continues to be obstinate.

 _Let me go! It has to be this way! I've saved her! I've saved them all. Just….give me some peace. Some fucking peace!_

Again, nothing.

The Universe seems to be a pretty cold-hearted bitch.

I sit in this limbo, my once-salvation now turned into the worst kind of personal hell. Frozen in time, except for my mind. I don't know how long I stay there, stubbornly waiting for the Universe to take me into its fold. It's long enough for my sanity to start to fray around the edges, until madness starts to envelope me, and my subconscious forces me backwards…

Back….back….back again to the beginning.

Well, not quite, but close enough.

"Don't EVER tell me what to do! I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!"

This time I rush Nathan. Try to grab the gun, try to stop this. If the universe won't let me die, fine. But I refuse, I REFUSE with my dying breath to simply sit back and let it take Chloe. To not fight for her, until every option, and damnit, I mean EVERY option is exhausted.

The gun goes off, all the same. But it's different this time. The bullet hits her, but much more off to the side. No longer the instantly fatal abdominal mass-center wound, but still. I mean, I don't know guns, but this can't be good.

Nathan pushes me off, levels the gun at me. Cocks it and tries to fire, but his hands refuse to cooperate. Shaking like a leaf.

"Look what you made me do! Look what….I...I didn't mean it. I just...I just wanted her to…"

The gun clatters to the floor as he runs out of the bathroom, screaming, his voice becoming shrill.

"I didn't mean it. I DIDN'T MEAN IT!"

My mind works overtime. I see the gun. I grab it. I have it. I HAVE IT!

I can take it off the board now. I can rewind, and he won't have it anymore. Then it's all good. It's all over, just like that.

But I can't. It's gone. All of power is gone. The instinct is there, the mental pull, but it's like flipping on a light switch to a burned out bulb.

I scream out in roiling, burning frustration, in agony, until I'm left panting in silence.

One which Chloe breaks, with her tiny voice.

"Max? Max Caulfield? H-holy shit."

She's slumped down to the bathroom tile, hand clutched to her side. Bleeding, and badly. I'm next to her in a heartbeat, propping her head up in my lap, the way she did for me, when our positions were reversed. With trembling hands, tears streaming from my eyes, I reach down and start to stroke her hair. Everything pours out of me, all of the words. I can't even control what's happening to me.

"Chloe! Oh God...Chloe. I'm….I'm so sorry! I tried! I tried to hard to save you. My fault. This is all my fault. If I had just...if I had just been there for you, the past five years. I could have just saved you if…"

The color begins to drain out of her, eyes going glassy.

I can already hear David running down the hall, no doubt clutching the first aid kit as he did before. I only have a few seconds left. I lean in, my mouth finding her own, kissing her. Desperate, frightened, hurting. Trying to give her comfort, in her final moments.

I breathe out against her face as we quickly part. "I love you, Chloe Price. And I always have. And when….and when you're gone...I don't know how I can go on, without you."

 _Fuck the universe. FUCK THE UNIVERSE, SIDEWAYS! How could it let this happen? How could it be so fucking cruel?! How could it force me...FORCE ME to let her die?! What's the point of it, what's the point of LIFE?!_

She glances up at me, trying to reach up to touch my cheek, and rasps out, "Damn, Max...hard….core."

Her hand slips down, eyes falling closed, like the curtains at the end of a play.

Everything kind of whites out from there…

* * *

By the time I regained my senses, I was in Principal Well's office. He's looked at me, expectantly.

"Max. Are you with us? Can you hear me?" He tried to sound soothing, concerned. Like he actually fucking cares. But I heard the note of desperation as well. Like a man who knew the shit has well and truly just hit the fan.

I glanced up, and our gazes locked. Part of me realized that I should feel scared, vulnerable. I'm just Max again. Not Super Max, not Spider Max. Just plain old me. I can't take back a damn thing. But the reverse happened...

...for the first time in my life, I truly felt free. Apart. Unbound.

 _Release the KrakenMax!_

"Good. Good, I'm glad that you're coming to your senses, Ms. Caulfield. Now, the police are going to ask you some questions in a few minutes, and I thought that it would be best if we discussed….your story ahead of time. You understand, of course, how delicate the situation..."

My eyes narrowed, and I struck, not even letting him finish.

"You knew Nathan Prescott was barely holding it together. he was dangerous! Chloe's death is as much on your hands as his!"

He held up his hands, voice raising as he tried to regain control of the situation, "Ms. Caulfield, I realize you must be in shock, but that does NOT excuse you from…"

"Rachel Amber in the dark room! Over and over and over, he wrote it. And then he shoots the girl looking into her disappearance? You don't think that's going to get people asking questions?!"

That cut him to the quick. He faltered, but wasn't ready to crack.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

 _Max, what are you doing? Where is this coming from?_

This isn't me. At least, this wasn't the old me. The shy, unassuming me. The one who wanted just to go along and get along. But that was before I was pushed to the breaking limit. Before I was stretched and tested and tortured and taunted and tormented…

The rage inside fueled me, burning hot and clean. I let the angry Max take the wheel, consequences be damned.

"Please!" I snorted. "You think photography is the only thing I'm good at? I had the school's system hacked the first week I came here." I lie. Oh my God, I'm so totally lying! And I sound really awesome as I'm doing it. Like this is a television show.

 _Don't call my bluff! Don't call my bluff!_

I was in over my head, in ways I could never before imagine. But I had nothing left to live for. Nothing but revenge now.

"All the secrets you've kept, Ray. All those secrets you've covered up for the Prescotts. Getting your hands dirty while you did it, too. Like that secret fund you kept in your desk. All the hundreds, fifties and twenties. And you call it the "Handicapped Fund"? Does that help you slep better at night?"

I actually did go with doing air quotes with my fingers. I thought it made me look more intimidating and bad ass, but upon later reflection, it probably made me look like a dumb ass.

I caught him glancing down at his desk, sweat beading up on his forehead.

I crossed my arms, the thrill of being in control of the situation - or the delusion of such, anyhow - running a giddy, chilling thrill up and down my spine.

"You can check, but I already helped myself to it this morning, before school opened."

He cracked at last. Couldn't stand to be uncertain. Opened it up and showed me the money, still there.

He turned back to me, torn between anger and fear. "What...what the hell do you think you're playing at, girl?! Do...do you think…" he started to sputter and laugh. "Do you think the police will believe anything you tell them? Anything at ALL? Do you know who they WORK FOR?"

I shrugged, pushing my luck to the breaking point. "They'll believe me when I show them the files. The ones from your computer. The ones I copied, thinking they might come in handy. Hey, what do you know? Looks like they did. And if the cops won't play ball, I'm sure the local media would love to see them. The national media. Hell, I just took all the files in your network, you think it's really that hard for me to spread this out on the Internet? To the whole world? I'm like Edward Snowden, man!"

Alright, I have to admit, I WAS pretty amazing. So cool, so in control. At least until the end. 'I'm like Edward Snowden, man?' God, how embarrassing and lame did that sound? Still, I figured I must have looked scary as hell. Max the Master Hacker. For all Wells knew.

He slumped his head, cupping his face in his hand, and held it there for the better part of a minute, trying to figure out how to deal with this. He then reached down, silently into the open drawer. Removed the envelope, with all five grand in it, and slid towards me on the desk.

I looked down at it, and then back to him, "What the fuck?"

"Go on. Take it. That's what this is about, isn't it, Max?" he said with a derisive sneer. "A shake down? Go on, you fucking thug. Take it. Take it and get out."

I did. I picked it up, but only so that I could throw it back in his face. I barely remember what happened next, I was so damned mad.

"Fuck you! FUCK YOU AND YOUR SCHOOL AND YOUR MONEY! CHLOE IS DEAD! CHLOE IS FUCKING DEAD AND YOU KILLED HER! AND I…."

I turned around and stormed out the door, unable to take it any more. But I stopped short. Made myself get control of my voice, my body. Just enough to lay down the ultimatum.

"You need to quit, Ray. You need to step down. That's all I want. Not your dirty money. Maybe someone else just as dirty takes your place. Maybe you don't end up in jail. But you resign. Or I release those files."

He started to laugh, and I figured my luck must have run out. That he finally saw me for the fraud I really was in all of this. Alone, helpless, powerless.

He shook his head and said, "Girl...after this, they're probably going to ask for my resignation anyhow. You think I going to survive what's coming? If you were smart, you should have taken the cash." He tucks it away, clearly demonstrating that the offer was now off the table. Not that it made a damn difference.

I was going to get even. I was going to taken down the Prescotts, even if it killed me. I had no idea how, of course, and my bravado was quickly draining, giving way to grief. I left the office at last, closing the door behind me, before Principal Wells saw through the quickly crumbling mask.

David spotted me, an ran over. I was ready to tear into him, to rake him over the coals, but...there was something in his eyes that made me hold back. Asshole or not, he was still Chloe's stepdad. And I could tell that while maybe he didn't like her...that didn't mean he didn't love her. In his own, stupid, sadistic, half-assed, Oh-God-I'm-Terrible-At-Fatherhood kind of way.

"Max? I...look, I just wanted to thank you, okay? The cops, they caught Nathan. Not that he ran far, or even tried to get away. He broke down right there and confessed. Said he pulled the gun on Chloe, and that you tried to stop him."

I could feel my lower jaw tremble, fresh tears welling up in my eyes. "I...I couldn't save her. I'm so, so sorry. I tried." My voice broke into a squeak, and I fell to my knees.

Angry Max was gone at last. Hysterically Sobbing Max had taken her place.

"Max! Max!" He wrapped his arms around me, unsure. Like giving actual physical comfort was kind of alien to him, but that he needed to make the effort, like it was important. "Chloe's still alive! I just heard from the hospital. She survived the ambulance ride. Now she's barely hanging on, but if she can make it through the night in the ICU...then...then every day afterwards, there's a chance. More and more of a chance. So please...you gotta stay strong? Alright...we….we have to be strong right now. For her."

I couldn't stop. I nodded to him, told him I understood, but I couldn't stop. It was all too much, too fast.

* * *

Later, much later, the police took my statement, but there wasn't a lot to be said. Nathan confessed to everything. He was a total basket case now. Rumor was already flying around that he was going to be committed. Locked away. Mommy and Daddy's little monster, their mistake, their broken boy, buried away from the world for the rest of his life.

How do you fight evil and power like that?

Night fell, and I slumped back into the girls dorm. I honestly don't remember how I got there, or what I was going to do. I was mildly surprised that the entire school hadn't shut down but...I guess that would have created more questions than the Powers That Be wanted asked.

I walked into Kate's room, uninvited. She sat on the bed, staring out into space like a zombie. I was pretty sure it was about more than just the day's events.

She finally noticed me, and asked, "Max? Are you….oh no. I heard. About Nathan, I mean! And some other girl in the bathroom? I just…"

I could see it, on the tip of her tongue. What she wanted to tell me. What she wanted me to know. About Nathan's many other crimes. The one he visited upon her specifically.

I sat down on the bed next to her, and in a tired, faraway voice, began, "It's okay. It's going to be okay, Kate." I reached out, taking her hand in mine. "I know what he did to you. I know how Nathan drugged you. Told you he was taking you to the emergency room. Made the video. Just...just don't ask me how I know, okay? Just trust me...that I'm on your side? That I believe you, and that I want to help?"

The look on her face. Poor Kate acted like I slapped her across it. But to her credit, she quickly recovers. Today, after all that's happened, it seemed like she was ready to believe anything. And the fact that there was someone who was on her side, out of the gate. I can see that meant the world to her.

"How….how can you help me? What can you do?" She wanted to believe me, but she was so hurt and defensive.

"I can be with you, you know? When...when you go to the police." My voice sounded smaller. Less certain. Old Max was coming back, at long last. The future became an increasingly uncertain concept. All of my cards were going to get played out, quickly, day by day. I had to hold on to all the future knowledge I gained though. I had to make it work. For me, and everyone around me who deserved justice.

"The police? Then you think I should tell them?"

I nodded once. "I think they'll believe you now. Not that it does much good. Nathan's probably going to get locked up away in a padded cell. But people will know, right? They'll know you're not….not all the terrible things they're calling you. That you were a victim. But that you're a victim, and the guy who did it to you….that he paid the price."

Price. Oh God. Oh God!

I was crying again. Bawling my eyes out. Kate forgot her troubles, wrapping an arm around me, shhhhing and trying to comfort.

"It's okay, Max. Everything is going to be fine. I know it. I just….". She glanced over to the wall, to the cross hanging from it, and smiled, a tiny bit. "I have faith."

"I...I think I could use some of that right now, Kate. After everything that's happened. After...Chloe."

"Who's Chloe?"

Right. Right, how would she know? Chloe got kicked out before we started.

"The girl. The one Nathan shot. In the bathroom. She….she's my best friend. Kate. I treated her like shit. I left home, and never talked to her again. For five. FUCKING. years. But I need her to live. I need her to live, and I just….I don't know if I believe in this praying stuff. But I need her to live right now, okay?"

Kate stayed up with me the entire night, praying the whole time. I did the same. I mean, in my own way. Kate has faith, but I've seen behind the curtain. I've seen the weird, twisted, freaky, quantum, chaotic nature of fate.

I was finally beginning to believe that things might work out. That the universe wasn't just keeping Chloe hanging on in order to build me up and then tear me down.

Because it would kill me. Literally kill me, if she didn't pull through now.

* * *

The next morning Kate went to the police to make her statement. I was there with her, of course. Classes were cancelled that day, but the administration was clearly quick to try and return a sense of normality back to the school.

Hah. Normal. What was normal ever going to be again? At least for me. How could I ever, ever go back to normal? How do you unsee everything that I have?

That's when I realized something: I still had all the pictures. And William's camera. All the collected souvenirs of the time and place that never was. And hopefully never would be. I kept them all. Even put them in a scrapbook. Because something told me I was going to need them, when Chloe woke up.

If she ever woke up.

The doctors did everything they could for her. She lost a lot of blood, and most of a kidney. She fell into a coma. But she lived through the night. There was hope now. And hope was something I had forgotten what it felt like.

Kate and I went to see her, when Chloe's condition finally stabilized. We took turns sitting vigil at her bedside. On Sunday evening, with maybe fifteen minutes to go before they kicked us out, I came up from the cafeteria to get something to eat, and saw Kate reading the Bible to Chloe. Framed by the last fading, golden rays of sunlight streaming through the window in the hospital room.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." Psalms 23, I vaguely remember.

"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely, your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

I didn't realize what I was doing until the camera was up to my face, the picture snapped. It came out better than I could have possibly hoped. My real life hero. Kate Marsh, offering succour to a girl she doesn't even know. Except she knows that Chloe is important to me.

There was my entry to the contest. I didn't care about it all that much any more. I really didn't. But people needed to see Kate like this. People needed to see her kindness, and her purity, and her compassion. I still wasn't sure I believed in God, or a God or Gods...but if He or She had more followers like Kate, then maybe the world was going to be okay, after all.

And no doubt, it helped that the tide quickly shifted in her favor. The videos came down off the Internet. People apologized. Some more heartfelt than others. I wasn't sure what was going on with her family, but Kate made it sound like everyone but her father had been kind of shitty to her - I mean, I knew that part already - and there was a rift that was going to be difficult to heal. But compared to the Kate who toiled in despair, the one I had to talk down from the roof, from killing herself?

She was intensely radiant.

I got the picture to Mr. Jefferson, but it was too late. He looked so sad, was just falling over himself to apologize, once he saw the photo. He couldn't do anything about the Everyday Heroes contest, but he submitted my entry to another national competition he knew about. One that required a sponsor, which he was happy to act as. I'd like to say that I won.

But I was up against some pretty hardcore professional talent.

Did come in third though. Turned more than a few heads. Got people to sit up and notice. I figured that would come in handy, later on down the line.

* * *

I quit Blackwell Academy six weeks later.

Because seriously, how could I not? How could I continue going to that school? How the hell was I supposed to just pick up the pieces of my life and carry on, like everything was returning to normal?

Normal was for everyone else not named Max Caulfiled. People wanted to forget. For a while, there was this nice air of togetherness, of quiet, unspoken hope. But, then...you know...the Vortex Club had to start reminding people that they were in charge. That yeah, maybe the Prescotts were bloodied, but they were ultimately unbowed.

The pecking order was eventually re-established. The student body slowly woke up - or went back to sleep...maybe that's a more apt metaphor - and realized "Oh yeah, we're still shitty teenagers. Time to get back to that."

If I wanted to really hone my craft, learn how to be the best photographer I could, I'm sure I could benefit from a place like Blackwell. But that's just it. It didn't HAVE to BE at Blackwell itself. So I quit. I was a legal adult, they couldn't make me stay. Mom and Dad didn't understand it, but they gave me space. I guess they figured sooner or later, I'd "come back to my senses" and return to school.

I decided the School of Hard Knocks was fine enough for the moment. I needed a new normal in my life. Of that much, I was certain.

Joyce and David took me in, let me stay in Chloe's room. I made money where I could: odd jobs here and there. Mostly taking a few spare late night shifts at the Two Whales Diner. I still kept taking pictures though. Building up my portfolio, sharpening my eye. What little money Mom and Dad still gave me almost all went to instant film packs.

God, those things are expensive. Not getting any cheaper. I really should just give up and go digital, but. I don't know. After everything that's happened, I'm not sure I can ever trust it. Not the way I trust film.

David...got worse, in a way. He got better too, to be fair. Stopped being quite as much of an ass, at least for a while. But he took it hard, took it personal, Chloe getting shot. He got his wish, putting up surveillance cameras on the campus. I guess no one was going to challenge him, after what happened.

Joyce? She was just happy to have me back in her life. Hopeful that Chloe would be re-entering it soon enough, as well.

I got my GED. Honestly, it wasn't that difficult. I thought to square away Chloe's debt with Frank, but he blew out of town a while back. The situation with the shooting made things hot for people like him, I guess. The police...had to act like they were actually doing their jobs for a while. At least until people stopped paying attention.

There were no dead birds. No eclipses, no tornadoes. Fishing was still absolute shit in the Bay, but that was no mystery: stuff like that happens when you overfish the water. At least the parts you didn't allow to become polluted.

I went up to the homeless woman, the one who lives out in the back of the diner, to bring her something to eat, a couple weeks after I started working there.

She just smiled, "Well, aren't you sweet, girl?" She took it, and said something between mouthfuls, as she ate.

"Funny, isn't it. How the winds of change work? How they blow through town one way, and then exit through another? Leaving everything transformed, but not the way you thought it would be. Dramatic, and subtle, all at the same time."

She just gave me a meaningful look. And that was that.

We talked a few more times in the weeks to come, but she never said anything more other than thank you, when I brought her food, or make pleasant, if disjointed chit chat.

* * *

It was early December when Chloe finally came out of her coma.

It was a sudden thing, when she woke up. I was there, at her bedside. Just like I was every night I could. One moment she was asleep, and the next? Awake at last.

She smiled. I took a picture of it, of course. Because that's my thing. It's what I do.

It was a while before she could speak, because she had to get the feeding tube out of her throat. That….really had to suck. I mean, ouch! Also: gross.

"So you're a photo geek now.", she rasped out.

I swallowed hard, fresh tears welling up in my eyes.

"You kissed me." She points out. "Think you said something about love, too?" She tried to laugh, winced painfully at the effort. "Jesus Christ, Max. Haven't...haven't seen you in five years."

I nodded emphatically, and sobbed out, trying to get my voice under control. "I know. I know. You have every reason to hate me. But I have a good story to tell. It'll kind of blow your mind."

I immediately wince at my - holy shit that was bad- choice of words.

She gets it, and smirks. "Better than getting another hole blown in my side. Christ...can't believe how much that still aches." By this point, the Doctors and Nurses had taken note, rushed in to check on her, rushed me out of the room so they could fuss over her.

It turned out that keeping the pictures from the Never-Time was key. When I visited her the next day, I presented her with the scrapbook I made from them.

She glanced down at the title.

"The Never-Ending Sacrifice? No offense Max, but that sounds pretentious as fuck. What the hell is this?" Her voice is still froggy, but improving.

"Just look" I breathed out. "Just look through it. And then I'll tell you the story. All right?"

She did. It didn't take long for the quiet freaking out to take hold.

"What...how did you….Max, this isn't funny."

I hold up her father's camera. "I promise you. It's no joke, Chloe. No joke."

She looked at those photos I took. Of us. Together. So happy. Being goofy. Being stupid. Being in love. I told her the tale of how we met again. Fell in love, or maybe, rather, realized we had always been in love. That five years apart had made sleeping hearts grow fonder, at long last. Of the life and the town around us, tearing itself apart while I tried desperately to figure out what the hell was going on, and how to fix it.

It was hard for her to come around. Harder still, when I had to tell her about Rachel Amber. About how I nearly saved her Dad, but had to undo it when she ended up in a wheelchair. Oh God, THAT news. She kicked me out of her room for almost a week, before she'd talk to me again.

We never solved the mystery of Rachel Amber, but by this point, Chloe stopped caring. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy with where her attentions were increasingly focusing, as a result. Still, I'll always wonder.

Spring was in the air when Chloe finally got out of the hospital. It took a few weeks more of physical therapy before she could walk without the cane. But she always complained about the throbbing in her side, when the barometer started falling. Thought it was cool she had a weather-wise ache.

"My own super power. You know, since you lost yours. Part of me still wants to call bullshit on that, Max. I kinda feel cheated. Woulda been cool to see it in action. We could've made the world bow before us."

I shrugged, when she said that to me. "You did. It just….was a different you."

* * *

By the time Spring was in full bloom, I still wasn't sure what I was going to be doing with my life. Except for spending the rest of it with Chloe. It happened differently, but it's clear that the universe intended for us to be together. No matter what.

Speaking of the Universe...I'm still not sure what to make of what happened. What seemed to cruel and callow, meaningless and chaotic, has turned almost benevolent. Like I had undergone this intense trial by fire, and come out ready for what was to come, out the other side. So that's the story I'm going with, until I have reason to believe otherwise.

The universe wanted me to save her. It just had to be on its own terms.

I shook up Arcadia Bay, just a bit. Gave sleeping giants pause. Put the worst of the rot on notice. It doesn't feel quite so hopeless around here any more. But I haven't affected any great transformation. The people in this town don't go around singing and dancing, and figuring out that it would be nice if they were kinder to each other. They just kind of stopped being QUITE so shitty, is all.

I'm sure it won't last.

Maybe that's all I can do here. Alleviate the worst of what this town tried to do to my friends, and then get the hell out, before much more time passes.

Chloe and I are an actual, factual couple now. We sleep in the same room. David isn't thrilled, but Joyce says we're adults, and he should deal with it. Especially since I've insisted on paying rent to them. Frankly, I think she's insufferably pleased by it. I'd like to say that he and Chloe learn to love one another, but it never quite happens. I think there are some gulfs that are too wide to cross, but an uneasy peace does settle over the household.

Chloe comes into money. A settlement from the Prescotts. Hush money...I mean, lets be honest, right? Not a lot of it, but definitely enough to give her dreams of what life should be like from here on out. For both of us.

That's when I get the letter. Like I said, apparently someone was impressed with my showing in that other contest.

"Jesus Christ, babe. A scholarship? Where? What school is this supposed to be?"

A hold up the letter to her, waving it around triumphantly. "Mount Holyoke College. It's on the other side of the country." I inform her. "Massachusetts."

"Oh my God, I've heard of that place. Shit Max, that's one of the Seven Sisters! Ivy League, but just for chicks!"

"Yeah…" I laugh. "It's okay I guess. But I'm not going to go."

"What?!"

"Not unless you're coming with me, duh."

Glancing away from me, she rubs the back of her neck nervously. "Max...sweetie. You...you don't need my loser ass dragging you down. You...I mean. This is big, right? This is probably the best chance you have to make something out of your life."

"You're my life, Chloe. Everything else is just what I'm doing when we're not together."

She bowed her head, trying not to smile through the blush.

"Besides," I muse. "All-woman college. In oh-so-romantic New England. If you're not there to protect me from all the female Lotharios who take an interest in me…"

She playfully jumped on me, pinning my arms down on the bed, and happy-roars out, "You are mine, Max Caulfield! And if any other woman tries to swoop in and take you away...well...Chloe's gonna have to punch a bitch then, right?"

You have no idea how much that made me melt. Seriously, into a little sticky puddle of Max flavored goo.

Later...you know. Afterwards. Because sex, of course - how did you expect sex not to happen after that? - we talked it out.

"I can defer, you know? For a year. I guess they're really jonesing to have me in their school."

"Really? Awesome. Awe. Some. Just as long as it's not as weird and fucked up as Blackwell turned out to be."

I turned around onto my side to face her directly. "You know what we need to do, right?"

"Well, *I* was thinking of more celebratory nookie, but something tells me you have another idea in mind."

I hit her gently across the face with a pillow. And then lean in to whisper it against her ear.

Then yeah. Celebratory nookie, part deux.

* * *

So Chloe and I bought an RV, with some of the money she got from the Prescotts.

So Chole and I left Arcadia Bay. Together. The way it was meant to be.

My memories of that other time and place, the old Max, the old Chloe, continue to fade away. Like it happened to someone else. A book I read, a video game I played, or a movie I once watched. Whatever this is now, THIS is real. Chloe and me. Together. The way we were meant to be. The future stretching out before us, blank, pristine. Ours to write. Ours to seize together.

"How can you stand it?" she asked once we finally crossed the state border. "Still not having that power. Not being able to rewind. To be in that kind of control?"

I started by taking her picture of course.

"Because people aren't meant to live like that, dummy. But I don't want to live my life in fear either, second-guessing myself. And the decisions I make. So yeah, I'm happy, I guess? That it's gone. But that having the power helped me become a better person."

"A sexier person." she laughed, giving me a playful, smouldering look of affection.

I laughed and paused to kiss her, just short enough so that we didn't run off the road.

"But I'm happier just being normal. You know?"

"Max Caulfield? You are anything but normal."

I shrug at that, and protest. "I'm normal. I'm so normal. I am Queen Normal."

"Bullshit!"

We both laugh for a minute.

Life is strange.

But when you get into the right groove, it's the most amazing thing ever.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N:** So believe it or not, this is kind of what I intended to do from the start. This happier ending But I got into kind of an angsty mood. I guess I was still a little angry at the game over the end of Episode 3. The more and more I got to thinking about what a "happy" ending would be, the more I realized that I made a mistake.

Or thought, "Wait...what if Max was the one who made a mistake. So love blinded, she thinks she has to be the one to die. That any of them had to die."

So I figure there are probably a few gaping continuity holes, potentially, here. And that once we know more about episodes 4 and 5, that things would end THIS particular way would make no sense. I pretty much glossed over "The Rachel Amber issue", since we still don't know enough about her. But I like to think I got a good sense of how a good ending should FEEL at least, vis a vis Life is Strange.

I guess in the end, you could say this: I'm a little worried right now, about how the game is going to end. About how blatant the cribbing from The Butterfly Effect has gotten. This is more a pre-emptive wishlish, of how I would like the game to end. But as anyone who reads my Mass Effect stuff will tell you, if Dontnod fucks up the end of the game, I'll be one of the first folks to jump in and improve it, rest assured *laugh*

Anyhow, I hope you folks enjoyed this. Have a good rest of the week.


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